


Show Me Where My Armor Ends

by Macremae



Category: EOS 10 (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, I am not sorry, M/M, Oslo is Osolong theory, Pain, so much pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 17:55:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6019594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macremae/pseuds/Macremae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Oslo is a two faced arse, proper gun safety is not used in the slightest, and Ryan and Akmazian fumble towards and understanding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show Me Where My Armor Ends

**Author's Note:**

> Happy V-Day you trashbins. Have some angst.

"Y'know, when I imagined you taking handcuffs off of me, it wasn't exactly like this."

"And now you have _one_ more chance to say something that doesn't make me leave you here."

Ryan glared up at Akmazian and shoved the key into the restraints. 

"If anything," he continued, "you should be thanking me. Do you know how long it took to find this place? And how I'm going to explain the _totally inconspicuous_ black eye?"

"I said thank you." Akmazian replied shamelessly. "And there's this thing called concealer? Maybe you've heard of it."

Ryan gave him a look. "Great idea. Just give me twenty extra minutes in the morning that aren't spent dealing with the day's emergency, and all our problems will be solved."

"You're really that bad at makeup?"

"Well, usually when I get an injury, I don't have to hide it because it was caused by having to rescue a fugitive."

"Did I mention that I said thank you?"

Sighing, Ryan rolled his eyes, opened the handcuffs' lock and pulled them off. 

"Okay," he said, stepping through the cell door, "if we're quick, we can-"

"My, my, my, you certainly are prompt Dr. Dalias."

Ryan and Akmazian froze, the handcuffs falling from Ryan's hand and meeting the floor with a clang. 

The voice's owner stepped out from the shadows of the hallway, their long, thick tail swishing back and forth menacingly, like the pendulum of a clock. Two cold black eyes glittered in the dim light, and a smile played across a pair of scaly lips. 

It took exactly 0.03 seconds for Ryan to become extremely confused.

"Dr. Osolong? Wha- _what_ are you doing here?"

Akmazian looked from one man to the other. "Ryan," he said warily, "I don't know who this Dr. Osolong is, but that sure as hell ain't him. That," he paused to glare at Maybe-Not-Osolong, "is Oslo, who I was supposed to have blown up a few months ago."

Oslo shrugged. "What can I say Destroyer? Dying has never been my strong suit."

Ryan blinked and shook his head. "No, no that's Dr. Osolong. He's a plastic surgeon, not a crazy smuggler."

Oslo started laughing. Akmazian looked concerned. Ryan needed to bang his head against a wall a few thousand times. 

"You lied to everyone," he said.

"Correct."

"And probably killed a few patients."

"Also correct."

"And faked a medical license."

"Partially correct."

"Oh my God."

"Just Oslo is fine."

Ryan closed his eyes for a few seconds, them opened them. Oslo was still there. Dammit. 

He took a deep breath. "Okay, first of all, when we get back to the station you are so fired. Second, let me get this straight. A lying, murderous, highly illegal psychopath has not only been practicing medicine in kinda-sorta-my infirmary... but hitting on me for the past year or so?!"

Akmazian snorted. "Someone has his priorities straight."

Ryan glared at him again. "You need to shut up until we sort this all out. Besides, you're certainly not one to talk."

Oslo's unsettling smile widened. "Yes, I'd like to talk about that if I may. It has been, shall we say, annoying me for quite some time."

"What has?" Akmazian asked, subtly taking a step forward.

"You, Destroyer."

He blanched. "Me?"

Oslo nodded. "Yes, you have been rather irksome, what with your advances."

"What advances?"

"Why, towards Dr. Dalias of course."

Ryan, who had been watching the exchange and trying valiantly to wrap his head around all of this, rapidly turned several shades of magenta.

"WHAT," he said.

Taking advantage of Ryan's momentary catatonicy, Oslo sidled up to him. Akmazian turned a matching shade of red.

"You see, I'm an only child, so I don't like to share. I started making my move on Dr. Dalias long before you did, which means I get dibs."

"Dibs?" Akmazian growled. "You're seriously calling dibs on him? He's not a toy, he's a person you bastard!"

"Believe me I know. I also know you haven't been that successful with him either."

Oslo chuckled at Akmazian's reaction. "Oh my, I hit a nerve there didn't I?"

Ryan shook his head again. "No- okay I'm stopping this right now."

Oslo put his hand on his heart in mock hurt. "But why would you do that? I only brought the Destroyer here to make things easier for you."

"Easier for me? You mean you set this whole thing up?"

"Yes, and it's a very simple choice, I assure you: me or him."

"What?"

Oslo smiled sympathetically. "Two options too much for you? Here, let me make things simpler"

And with that, he drew a pistol from behind his back and fired a shot into Akmazian's stomach.

Ryan sucked in a breath sharply, eyes widening in horror.

"There," said Oslo happily, curling his tail around one of Ryan's ankles, "aren't things much clearer now?"

Ryan was silent for several moments as blood roared in his ears, and a rush of adrenaline flooded every part of him. Then, in a strained, barely contained rage-filled voice, he replied, "Crystal."

Upstairs, one of Oslo's employees listened to music through their headphones as they filled out paperwork for a new shipment of 46-B2 processors. If they had heard the remarkably violent noises coming up through the air vents however, they would have been much less soothed by the sounds of Tchaikovsky.

In completely unrelated news, Ryan was discovering the therapeutic qualities of shooting someone sixteen times in the face.

\--

By the time he saw Akmazian's eyes fluttered open, Ryan's nails were bitten almost down to nubs. One hand lay across Akmazian's, and the other tapped rhythmically on the bed. 

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," Akmazian replied softly. "I'm not dead."

Ryan smiled tiredly. "I made sure of that. Do you know how hard it is to operate on a wanted criminal when everyone is looking at you?"

"Sorry. And thanks."

"Yeah, well," Ryan sighed, removing one hand from the bed to run it through his already mussed hair, "I'm just glad you're okay."

Akmazian cracked a tiny smile. "Don't feel like it."

"You got shot in the stomach. I'd be surprised if you did. I'm putting you on a liquid diet for a while, but you're all fixed up for the moment."

"Good to hear." A worried look flashed across Akmazian's face. "What about Oslo?"

Ryan suddenly became very quiet.

"Um," he said, fidgeting nervously, "he, uh, he won't be bothering anyone anymore."

"The hell'd you do to him?"

Ryan turned a light shade of pink. "I may have... shot him back. In the head. Several times."

"Jesus," said Akmazian, who was a little turned on by the mental image. "I appreciate the gesture, but wow."

"Well, he hurt you!" Ryan replied defensively. "I was scared you were going to die, what did you expect me to do?" 

Akmazian chuckled weakly. "You were scared? Careful. Keep that talk up and people'll start thinking you care about me."

Ryan's blush passed into tomato territory. He muttered something Akmazian didn't catch.

"What?" he asked.

"Of course I care about you."

Akmazian's heart monitor went up by several numbers. "Oh," he said tactfully.

Ryan stared down, and began to absentmindedly rub circles onto the back of Akmazian's hand. "Yeah," he said, and looked up shyly, "I do."

They fell silent, holding each other's gaze for several long moments.

Akmazian shifted his hand and laced their fingers together. He squeezed Ryan's and waited.

Ryan squeezed back.


End file.
